deepundergroundpoetry.com
Christmas
Feels like Christmas today,
but not in the "I'm getting presents" sort of way.
Its something deeper than that
something older
A smell perhaps
Or the bite in the air
Being here again, in my mother's house...
Remembering.
It stirs something in me
Summer's gone
Fireweed spent
Nothing to cling to but the memories
Sun drenched skin and salty lips fade
like the smoke from our beach coal fires.
Curling away up into the sky
Leaving nothing behind but the
smell
but not in the "I'm getting presents" sort of way.
Its something deeper than that
something older
A smell perhaps
Or the bite in the air
Being here again, in my mother's house...
Remembering.
It stirs something in me
Summer's gone
Fireweed spent
Nothing to cling to but the memories
Sun drenched skin and salty lips fade
like the smoke from our beach coal fires.
Curling away up into the sky
Leaving nothing behind but the
smell
Published 5th Apr 2012
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Anonymous
7th Apr 2012 1:37am
This reminds me of a Mary Gaitskill short story I read the other day, called "Heaven," about a housewife and the lives of her various family members. It has that same air of tortured domesticity about it.
This is a very good, soulful poem about memories that are alluded to rather than hammered home. I like that you don't mention what the memories you're clinging to are, exactly. It gives them a ghostlier, more haunting quality. The last verse is a smashing close. Somehow the curling fingers of flame reaching into the sky symbolise the memories.
Thanks for the read.
This is a very good, soulful poem about memories that are alluded to rather than hammered home. I like that you don't mention what the memories you're clinging to are, exactly. It gives them a ghostlier, more haunting quality. The last verse is a smashing close. Somehow the curling fingers of flame reaching into the sky symbolise the memories.
Thanks for the read.
